The Marriage Dissolution Office
by potionseagle
Summary: The Ministry of Magic's Marriage Dissolution Office is understaffed, cramped, and disorganized. But the only way to turn in a divorce petition is to wait. Lumione.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I can't get enough of these two.

* * *

Lucius looked at his watch for the fifth time that hour—he had now been waiting for nearly forty minutes to meet with a caseworker. As he looked up from his watch with a long sigh, he noticed that the entrance door was swinging closed. Accordingly, he scanned the room until his eyes fell on Hermione Granger, who quickly looked away from him, though her facial expression didn't change from its disapproving expression. As his eyes landed on her hair, which looked as though it had been through a windstorm, his mind immediately flashed to her writhing on the floor while Bellatrix tortured her and he did _nothing_.

Lucius didn't realize that the blood had drained from his face or that his hand had hardened into a fist until Hermione cleared her throat, very Umbridge-style, and their eyes met. "I'm not exactly thrilled to be waiting here with you, either," Hermione greeted him in a clipped tone, pausing before deciding to call him, like his son, "Malfoy."

Correcting her was not an option, so Lucius played along. "And what am I supposed to call you, Mrs. Krum? Or perhaps that's no longer appropriate."

"It's _Ms. _Granger to you," Hermione huffed, "always has been."

"Well, you'll have to excuse me, it's been a while."

Lucius realized immediately it was the wrong thing to say. Even though it had been nearly ten years since the war, he hadn't seen her since. He had practically become a hermit confined to his house or friends' houses, as he was no longer welcome at the Ministry.

"Trust me," Hermione replied in an attempt at a combative tone, but her voice betrayed more emotion that she was willing to admit, "I remember the last time I saw you."

It would have been a good time to apologize, or at least say something that wasn't biting or sarcastic, but all Lucius could manage was an uncomfortable silence.

"So…" He said after a minute. "You're here for the same reason I am?"

Hermione sighed at that, not making eye contact. "I don't like spending time in the Marriage Dissolution Office for my own enjoyment, shockingly enough." Softening slightly, she asked, "I assume the same is true for you?"

"Yes," he responded, "that's correct."

"So, how long have you been waiting here?" Hermione asked in an impatient voice.

"Nearly an hour," Lucius sighed, glancing at his watch again in hopes that it would prove him wrong. It didn't.

"Well…" Hermione responded in a condescending tone, "did you make an appointment?"

"Of course I made an appointment," Lucius snapped in reply. "I'm not a fool."

Hermione opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by the first person popping out of the back area of the office. "Mr. Finnigan?" She called as her neck craned around to the waiting area.

Hermione and Lucius both glanced at each other before Hermione responded to the witch. "There is no Mr. Finnigan here"—the witch started to retract her head and Hermione spoke faster—"but there is a Mr. Malfoy and a Ms. Granger, both of whom have an overdue appointment."

The witch popped her head out again. "I don't have either of you on the schedule."

Hermione went slightly pink and looked as if she was about to yell, so Lucius cut in, not wanting the witch to disappear out of irritation. "Pardon me, but could you check again? My appointment was for ten o'clock and Ms. Granger's…" he trailed off, gesturing to Hermione.

"Ten-thirty," Hermione replied in a clipped tone.

The witch flicked through some papers out of his view, looking confused. "Let me sort this out," she responded. Lucius opened his mouth to protest, but she was already gone.

"We're going to be here all day, aren't we?" Hermione asked after a minute.

"I suspect as much, yes," Lucius agreed.

Hermione let out a breath of air she was holding, blowing a wayward lock of hair out of her eyes. "I would have _asked _someone how long this would take, but everyone I know is just thrilled in their post-war, hasty marriages and somehow I'm the only one who thinks it was a bad idea to get married in the wake of tragedy."

Lucius shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not really sure how to respond to the surprising honesty other than with his own. "I don't really know anyone who's been divorced, either," he admitted, still feeling like somewhat of a failure for ending up in this office with its strangely bright walls and oddly shaped armchairs.

"Not very pureblooded of you, is it?" Hermione quipped.

Lucius considered this for a moment. "It's certainly not in line with tradition," he conceded. "For whatever that's worth."

Hermione shot him a doubtful expression. "I thought it was worth everything; wasn't that what the war was about, after all?"

Lucius laughed hollowly. "Admittedly, it was for me, but that was at the beginning, many years ago. In the end, it was just about survival."

Hermione scoffed. "Was it about survival when you slipped Voldemort's diary into an eleven-year-old girl's textbook?"

And for the second time that morning, an unwelcome image filled his brain—a glance inside the hospital wing, an unconscious girl, and her furious mother—and he could feel the heat rising in his chest as he lashed out at the woman forcing him to confront these memories that generally stayed more comfortably buried. "I wasn't aware part of getting divorced was an interrogation."

"I'm sorry," Hermione replied in a low, dangerous tone. "I forgot how accustomed to avoiding consequences you are."

Lucius sucked in a breath, biting his tongue to avoid a sharp retort; it wasn't really fair, taking all of his guilt out on one of the people he had truly hurt during the war. "I apologize for snapping at you," he said in an attempt at an even voice, though it came out a bit more petulant than he had intended, and he knew Hermione agreed as her face flashed with anger and she opened her mouth to reply. "Sincerely, I am sorry. It's just that I didn't expect this today, and that's not an excuse, I know, but it's difficult to be confronted with my worst mistakes."

Hermione gave him a suspicious look but backed off, choosing to look at the blank stretch of wall next to him.

"And…" Lucius continued tentatively, choosing to follow Hermione's lead and also stare at the wall. "I have a lot more to apologize for."

"That's certainly true," Hermione responded. Her voice was still harsh, but there was a thickness to it, seemingly filled with emotion that she was trying to conceal.

"You said that you remember the last time you saw me; I do, too, and it's one of my biggest regrets among many from the war. I truly am sorry, and there is no excuse for my inaction. I'm not saying this in any expectation that you would forgive me," he hurried to add, still avoiding her eyes.

"Well," Hermione said in a choked voice, "that's not what I was thinking of, actually. I don't mean to say that I forgot you were there—that day is burned in my memory, I assure you." Hermione laughed bitterly. "But you didn't seem…" she trailed off, not finishing her sentence, and looked down at her shoes.

"I didn't seem what, Ms. Granger?" Lucius pressed, looking at her until she could no longer avoid the force of his stare, and returned his gaze.

"It's just that you didn't seem like you had much control over the situation, so it's not something that's on the rather long list of things I blame you for," she finished lightly, but it was obvious to Lucius that—despite correctly noting his abhorrent treatment of her over the years—Hermione felt bad for _him_. He felt simultaneously touched and embarrassed.

"Well, thanks, I guess," was all he could manage, despite being entirely self-aware of the fact that he was letting his pride get the best of him.

"Sure," Hermione responded awkwardly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"What did you want me to apologize for?"

Hemione shook her head. "It doesn't matter; I didn't come here expecting an apology. I just want a divorce."

"Why?" Lucius asked impulsively; he had seen pictures of Hermione and the Quidditch star in the newspapers. Viktor had always looked at her adoringly and mentioned her in every interview. Although, thinking about it now, Hermione had always looked a bit overwhelmed. Lucius had always thought she simply disliked the publicity, but perhaps there had been more to it than that.

Hermione sighed. "I ask myself that question all the time. Viktor is incredibly sweet, intelligent, and rather perceptive. It's just that…" Hermione paused, seemingly searching for the words to continue. "There's always been something missing that I told myself I didn't need, and I was wrong. The worst part is that I wasn't the one who realized I needed more; it was him. Sometimes I think he knows me better than I know myself, but I think I just needed someone to force me to confront it."

"Ah, the elusive 'something more,'" Lucius mused, thinking of his own relationship with Narcissa.

"You know something about that, too?"

"Yes," Lucius agreed. "Unfortunately, I do."

The witch poked her head out and called Lucius in. He gave Hermione an awkward wave as he went to the back offices for his appointment; by the time he re-emerged, the waiting room was full, but there was no Hermione.

* * *

"You never apologized to me," a familiar voice half-slurred behind Lucius. It had been about six months since he had bid goodbye to her—since he had gotten divorced.

Lucius turned around and took in the slightly disheveled state of Hermione Granger, wondering what she was doing at a stuffy restaurant that primarily served old, pureblooded families. He was there to meet Draco and Astoria, but he had arrived a bit early even though he knew that they were always late. And so he had determined to wait at the bar until they arrived, which was where Hermione had snuck up behind him. (Sneaking was a generous term; her shoes had clunked and skid across the floor quite noisily.)

Still, despite being fairly red in the face, she looked attractive in a black dress that was covered every inch of her, but was rather snug. And whether it was the dark color of her dress or the low light of the bar, he noticed for the first time how bright her brown eyes were. Lucius realized he was staring slightly and felt embarrassment wash over him; Hermione was gazing at him questioningly and he wasn't sure if it was because he hadn't said anything to her since she had walked over or because he was _still _staring.

"Can I get you something to drink?" He asked as she slid into the seat next to him without asking. Once the sentence was out of his mouth, he wished he could take it back; she had seemingly had too much to drink already, but he had offered out of habit.

"Trying to get me drunk?"

Lucius didn't know how to respond until Hermione laughed, an uninhibited, too-loud kind of laugh that couldn't help but loosen him up.

"I think you've already taken care of that yourself, Ms. Granger," Lucius quipped, earning a smile that he couldn't help but return.

"It's Hermione," she said, "Her-my-own-knee."

"I know how to pronounce your name, _Hermione_."

The bartender wordlessly placed a glass of water in front of Hermione, giving her a disapproving look before shuffling away.

"That was rude," Hermione observed, dutifully drinking her glass of water regardless.

Lucius opened his mouth to agree, but was interrupted by Liam Crabbe, the youngest and most irritating of the Crabbe children. "You're not in the bathroom," he said to Hermione accusingly.

"Spot on," she agreed, barely looking up from her water glass.

"We're in the middle of a date. Here I am, giving you a chance despite your ill-breeding—"

Lucius waited to see if Hermione would respond, but she just looked as though she had stopped listening. He internally wrestled with himself; it seemed disrespectful to Hermione to jump in, but she didn't seem to want to do anything and he couldn't just let the Crabbe boy continue to insult her. (Liam had continued talking, though Lucius had joined Hermione in tuning him out.)

"Liam," Lucius cut in. Even though he didn't raise his voice, Liam immediately ceased talking. "You are being incredibly rude. Please leave and stop embarrassing yourself."

"Mr. Malfoy," Liam argued, clearly taken aback. "We're on a date and she didn't even excuse herself."

At this time, Draco came in with Astoria, walking over to the three of them. "What's going on, Father?"

Liam explained quickly and Draco shot Hermione a nasty look. "She's not worth it, Liam," Draco said in a low voice. That seemed to calm Liam down. Liam must have said something about Lucius's comment, because Draco shot his father a withering stare. Lucius looked between his son and Hermione for a split second, trying to determine his next move.

Hermione scrunched up her face and bounced off her seat. "Malfoys, Liam, thank you for the _fascinating _evening." She seemed to be considering something for a moment, but whatever it was, she decided against it and waved as she left the restaurant.

Astoria began to talk, trying to restore peace between Lucius and his son, but Lucius excused himself and walked out of the restaurant. The entrance area was entirely empty.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I wanted to thank all of you for the response I've received to this story so far. :)

* * *

It was one of those painfully sunny days where there was nowhere to look that wasn't too bright. Lucius asked himself for the twelfth time that day if the book he wanted—on an experimental new theory on how to effectively use runes in spellwork—was worth this trip to Diagon Alley. He ordered the vast majority of his new books from the half a dozen bookstores he frequented, but he had found through his inquiries that this particular book was only available at a relatively small, new bookstore. Lucius had written to the owner of it several weeks ago and received no response, so he had endeavored to try his luck in person.

Because he went so infrequently, being in Diagon Alley felt a bit like stepping into a dream, a time before the Second War when Draco was young and he had been, if not happy, then some semblance of it. But the picture was all wrong—he had felt too intimidated at the idea of going out in such a public arena on the weekend, so he was there in the middle of a Tuesday. He wondered if that had been a mistake, as the street was so empty that he felt like the sun was a spotlight announcing to the world that Lucius Malfoy, the Death Eater, was here—one of the many places where he no longer belonged.

Lucius brushed off those feelings as best as he could and soon found himself at his destination: Finch-Fletchley's First Editions and Further Finds. He took a deep breath and tried not to ponder why the owner may not have responded to his note—it could be simple disorganization, and it was paranoid and self-involved to think otherwise. Or so he told himself.

He kept telling himself that for what was probably only a few moments, but long enough that the door to the bookshop swung open, pushed by the side of Hermione Granger's body, as her hands were too involved with carrying an impressive stack of books. She jumped slightly when she saw him; her books swayed dangerously but did not fall. He thought about asking if she wanted help carrying them, but quickly decided that it wouldn't be well received.

"Do you enjoy standing there, terrifying people as they leave the shop?" Hermione asked in an exasperated tone.

"No, I…" He trailed off, not wanting to dive into a long and personal explanation about why he had been frozen in front of the storefront. "I apologize; scaring you wasn't my intent."

"Fine," Hermione responded before she continued walking past him.

Lucius hesitated before walking to catch up with her. "Hermione"—he forced himself to call her that—"could I have a chat with you?"

Hermione paused for a moment before responding in a brusque voice, "follow me if you like, but I am going to muggle London to have a latte that I have been looking forward to the entire day."

"Muggle London," Lucius mused, falling into step beside her.

"Also known as London to the vast majority of residents," Hermione commented in a tired voice.

"It sounds nice, actually," Lucius responded. He often avoided the majority of the wizarding world by sticking to his old haunts, like the pureblood-centric restaurant where he had run into Hermione all those months ago. But he didn't like those places, either; they held darker memories for him that he was more comfortable burying, like the first dinner he had with Voldemort. Still, they were the only places that he didn't get stares and hear whispers, or worse, silence.

Hermione gave him a surprised look. "Muggle London sounds _nice_ to you?" She looked as if she wanted to say more, but didn't, instead making her way through the Leaky Cauldron. Lucius couldn't tell if Hermione didn't notice the way people were staring at them or didn't care. Either way, he respected it.

"It's nice not to be recognized sometimes," Lucius confessed.

Hermione nodded. "That's part of why I like going into muggle London."

"Aside from your latte," Lucius joked.

Hermione smiled widely before squashing it, biting her lip. "I don't…" she trailed off, shaking her head.

"Don't?" Lucius questioned.

She shook her head again. "Just wait until you try it," she responded, her voice conveying an even mix of the light-hearted and guarded.

As they approached the door leading out of the Leaky Cauldron (which Lucius couldn't remember if he had ever walked through, always apparating or using the floo), Hermione looked around the bar as though to make sure they weren't being watched and gestured for him to follow her to a table near the exit.

"I'm about to do something that might be illegal," Hermione said in a careful voice, still keeping an eye on the rest of the pub. "Are you going to be cool?"

Lucius could feel his left eyebrow shoot up in surprise. "As long as the something illegal isn't using an Unforgivable Curse on me, it will be our secret."

Hermione scrutinized him for a moment, seemingly satisfied. "Can you move just a little to the right?" He complied, feeling a bit silly. "Perfect," she said under her breath, surreptitiously sliding her stack of books into the small purse she was carrying until they had all disappeared.

"Illegal extension charm," Hermione explained. "Of course, it's better than bringing these books to the café and breaking the Statute of Secrecy, but the Ministry would prefer for me to take these texts home with me first and then come all the way back. Actually," she corrected, "they would prefer if I just never visited muggle London at all." Hermione shrugged.

"Now for you," she said, looking him up and down in disapproving way that Lucius found he disliked. "You can't wear this in muggle London, especially if you'd like the avoid attention."

"Well," Lucius pondered, "what should I wear, then?"

"Do you trust me to transfigure your robes?" Hermione asked.

Lucius felt slightly uncomfortable for a reason he couldn't quite place, but nodded after a moment.

Hermione looked like she was deciding something before she said, "You didn't say what you wanted to chat about, but we could just talk here, I guess."

Partly because he could feel the few eyes in the Leaky Cauldron piercing the back of his head and partly because this was the first pleasant afternoon he had spent outside the Manor in ages, he pushed back. "Don't tell me you're going to talk up this wonderful latte and then deny me the pleasure of trying it."

Hermione looked unsure, biting her lip again, which made Lucius backtrack immediately. "I didn't mean to insist on my company where it wasn't welcome, Hermione. We can talk here if you prefer."

She smiled a lopsided, embarrassed smile. "It's not that; it's just that…" Her cheeks went red. "It feels strangely intimate deciding how to dress you. And I don't really know you."

Lucius tried not to smile, but it was a losing battle. "Well," he said, grinning, "I'm incapable of dressing myself; I don't know anything about muggle clothing, I'm afraid."

She opened her mouth to say something, but instead took out her wand and did a wordless transfiguration. "You are impossible," she said, in an attempt to sound irritated that failed. "You're wearing a suit because for some reason, that's all I can picture you in. Now, follow me," she instructed, and Lucius did just that.

"What's a suit?" He asked as they exited the Leaky Cauldron. His clothes felt smooth against his skin, but slightly restricting.

Hermione seemed to consider that for a moment. "Let's see. It's what professional people wear, but people also wear it when they dress up."

Hermione weaved between the crowds with ease, Lucius barely keeping up with her. He was so accustomed to people moving out of his way as he walked, whether it was from respect or fear. He had never experienced anything like this before; on the way to the café, he was jostled, elbowed, and more than anything, disregarded. There was something strangely liberating about it.

Lucius was so focused on navigating the crowds and taking in the alien feeling of the world around him that he nearly ran into Hermione when she stopped and turned toward him. He stopped just short of her, close enough that he could see even the smallest freckles on her nose and smell the faint scent of strawberries coming off her hair. He had a nervous feeling for a moment that was so foreign he didn't immediately recognize it; there was some part of him that wanted to cross the short distance between them and kiss Hermione Granger, he realized with a start.

"You look panicked," she cut through his thoughts. "Second thoughts about Muggle London?" Her voice had a bit of triumph in it.

"No, not at all," Lucius responded, shoving his thoughts as far back in his mind as he could. "I was lost in my own thoughts, apologies."

Hermione nodded. "Come on, then," she said, breaking their closeness and walking toward a garish purple sign that read _Tea Time_ and had a small, cartoonish outline of a tea kettle in the same shade. Stifling a chuckle, Lucius followed her in.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you all for your support of this fic; it's always nice when someone (other than me) enjoys the conversations in my head. ;)

* * *

As they walked into the shop, Lucius was taking in the surroundings—small wooden tables, lavender walls, plants hanging from the ceiling—when he turned back to Hermione and saw her pulling out foreign coins.

"Hermione, I failed to consider changing money before we got here," Lucius said in a low, apologetic voice as he walked closer to Hermione so that she could hear.

She looked up at him with a bemused expression. "I think I can manage covering your coffee…" Hermione didn't quite finish her sentence, and it seemed like she was going to say a name, but decided not to, perhaps because she didn't want to use his first name and was—_hopefully_—done calling him Malfoy.

"You can call me Lucius, you know," he found himself saying, a bit boldly.

She opened her mouth, but then decided to think better of her quick retort, biting her lip before replying, "yeah, okay. I'm going to go order our drinks now."

Lucius followed behind her as she walked toward the counter. The man at the counter smiled broadly at Hermione and looked sideways at him. "Hi, Hermione."

"Hello," she replied, flashing a quick smile. "How are you today, Oliver?"

"Doing well, although it's been slow, so my day's been dragging a bit," he replied, grinning through the entire sentence despite its content. Maybe it was the strange pull Lucius had felt toward Hermione outside the shop, but he couldn't help but assess Oliver and note the strong resemblance he bore to Hermione's ex-husband, Viktor Krum.

Hermione must have seen Oliver glance sideways at Lucius in confusion for the second time because she decided to introduce him. "This is… Lucius," she said, her voice going up at the end of his name like it was a question.

"Hello," said Oliver, his smile glued to his face, but the warmth gone.

Lucius nodded at him and said hello, instinctually flashing a similarly cold smile.

"Will it be the usual today, then, Hermione?" Oliver asked, turning his attention back to Hermione.

"Yes, thanks." She turned her attention to Lucius. "You said you wanted the same?"

Lucius nodded, and Hermione asked for two before paying for both of them. As they sat down, Lucius said calmly, "I will insist on paying you back, of course."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "And what's the exchange rate?"

Lucius hesitated. "I feel confident I could ascertain the rate from somewhere. Gringotts?"

Hermione smirked at that. "I wish I could be a fly on the wall for that conversation."

"I _will_ find out the rate," Lucius reiterated.

"Chivalry over bigotry, then?" Hermione asked, her voice still light.

Lucius had to work to keep his voice level. "I am not a bigot, Hermione." She opened her mouth to retort, but he continued. "Not anymore, at least. I'm in muggle London, aren't I?"

"One afternoon in muggle London doesn't show much," Hermione said without emotion.

"Hermione, I'm… not sure what you want from me."

Hermione scoffed bitterly, nodding behind Lucius. Lucius turned his head over his shoulder to see the Krum look-alike approach with two incredibly large mugs of coffee, one various shades of turquoise and the other with dark, reddish hues. Oliver sat the turquoise mug in front of Hermione before turning to Lucius, his smile turning to a smirk as his face moved out of Hermione's eyeline. He plopped the dark red mug in front of Lucius a little too hard, bits of drink landing on the table and a few drops on Lucius's—what was it?—suit.

"I'm so sorry, mate," Oliver said insincerely. "I'll be right back with a rag to clean this up."

"Don't worry about it, Oliver," Hermione cut in, gesturing toward the napkins on the table before she wiped up the few spilled drops and handed a napkin to Lucius curtly.

"Thanks, Hermione," Oliver said, not sparing a look for Lucius as he left the table.

"Where were we…" Hermione mused, her voice conveying equal parts exhaustion and sarcasm. "Right, you're not sure what _I _want from _you_ when you were the one who said you wanted to talk." Throughout her sentence, her tone became angrier as she began to sound as though she was trying very hard indeed to keep from yelling in her favorite coffee shop.

Lucius had to suppress his own irritation, but he understood all too well how quickly one's temper could flare when the past is brought up, even inadvertently. "I wanted to apologize; the last time we spoke, you said that I owed you one and you were right. And I wouldn't—that is to say, I didn't mean to impose myself on you."

Hermione sighed, looking sideways for a moment as she sipped her latte. "I suppose I did drunkenly demand an apology from you, so I can't blame you for seeking me out, or rather, stopping me in the street and feeling compelled to speak with me. Because that's what happened, isn't it?"

"I don't understand what you're asking me," Lucius responded, genuinely confused.

"I triggered some chivalry code, right? I said you owed me an apology, and now you feel obligated to deliver it?" Her voice was growing high-pitched again.

Lucius searched for the words to best strike down that theory. "I did ask you for a chat to apologize to you, but not because I felt obligated or anything in that vein."

"So you've reached out to everyone you hurt in the war to apologize? I guess I must be at the end of the list if it's taken this long—or are there just that many people?"

Lucius lost the battle with his temper. "Why the sudden hostility, Hermione? I thought we were having a nice afternoon."

Hermione let out a strangled breath and began to speak very rapidly. "Just because you're witty and fun to be around"—Lucius's temper subsided a bit at that—"does _not_ change the fact that you are essentially the representation of pureblood snobbery that I have had to fight against my entire life in the wizarding world, your own son being the worst of them. And don't think that anything's changed after the war. And yes, it was a nice afternoon until the second we walked into this shop, when I could see immediately in your face that you don't like that I'm friends with a muggle." She more mouthed the last word than spoke it, conscious of the Statute of Secrecy even in her anger.

_ That is not the reason I am not a fan of that man_, Lucius thought. "That's not exactly true," Lucius said out loud.

"Sure," Hermione responded, but she seemed calmer, as though she had said her piece.

Lucius waited a beat before responding. "I am sorry for any pain I caused you in raising Draco to be… prejudiced against those with different lineage. And I apologize for his behavior the last time I ran into you. I should have said something in the moment, but I felt frozen and everything moved so quickly. I tried to follow you out, but you had already left."

Hermione looked down at the table for a long moment before lifting her eyes to meet his; she didn't say anything in response, but instead searched his face. Seemingly satisfied, she responded, not breaking eye contact with him, "Thanks, then." Breaking the tension, she gestured toward his drink. "Your latte's getting cold."

He looked down at his drink, which he had failed to touch so far, so distracted by the conversation with Hermione. It had a white leaf in the center sprinkled with cinnamon. Out of habit, Lucius took a small sip, but it had cooled slightly from being left out, so he drank a bit more. It was tasty; the cinnamon wasn't something he would add, but it added a pleasant spice that matched the warmth of the drink.

"I like it," he stated simply.

"The espresso here is good," Hermione agreed.

"I think the cinnamon makes it, though," Lucius said. "Is that your addition?"

Hermione nodded, her face softening a bit.

"I failed to add," Lucius said, averting his gaze, "I enjoy your company, too." The words came out like he had a tablespoon of molasses in his mouth, but when he looked back at Hermione, she was slightly pink and smiling slightly.

They fell into an easier conversation after that, starting with Hermione realizing that she had intercepted his trip to the bookshop and turning into a long discussion about combining various disciplines. They started with the recent research on runes and charms but ended up discussing herbology and potions in much more detail. After they said their goodbyes outside the Leaky Cauldron, Lucius noticing that she still had avoided using his name, he apparated home to the manor empty of everyone other than him a few house elves. One greeted him formally as he arrived home, and he walked the steps to this library more out of habit than any desire to read anything in particular.

Ultimately, Lucius gravitated toward a text he had discussed with Hermione earlier, skimming some of the passages in light of her perspective on the work, which she argued was much more radical and influential than he had given it credit for. As he closed the tome, he was convinced the truth was somewhere between each of their views. Certain sentences jumped out to him that refuted her argument, and his first instinct was to write to her and continue their discussion.

But the last time he had seen Hermione, she had decided to seek him out. And this time Lucius hadn't really thought at all, but simply acted on instinct. He couldn't really hide behind impulse if he wrote and sent a letter, and what right did he have to write to her, after all? She thought he was fun, which was refreshing, but she also said he reminded her of the prejudice he had experienced—continued to experience—her entire life. And he didn't really need her to tell him that because it was written all over her face when her mood changed at the drop of a hat.

And that's why Lucius didn't pull out parchment and a quill, why he didn't make note of the passages, and why he poured himself a drink and grabbed an unrelated text off the shelf instead as he settled into his favorite armchair.


	4. Chapter 4

The following day, Lucius went back to the bookshop, feeling nervous as he ventured into Diagon Alley. It seemed that he was getting more curious stares than the day before, and he wondered if it was because he had walked through the Leaky Cauldron with Hermione the previous day. It was most likely, he decided, that people were giving him the exact same stare that they always had and he simply had the prior day at the forefront of his mind.

Just as he had the day before, Lucius tried not to think about why the shop owner didn't answer his letters as he walked toward the shop. It was his intention to simply select the book he had made the journey for and be on his way, but it had been so long since he had been in a bookstore that he found himself getting lost among the shelves. First, he did a general sweep for titles that popped out, and then he went back and tried to look more carefully row-by-row. Next, he went through his favorite sections—history and potions—with particular detail. Finally, he decided to seek out his favorite authors and see if they had published anything new. By the time he had finished, he could barely balance the nine books he had carefully selected. He thought about putting one or two back, but after a quick glance at the stack, it was clear to him that he did not have the willpower to do so, and after all, there was no need.

He carried the books up the front and set them on the counter before moving his head from behind the stack to address the man behind the counter. "Hello," he said nervously. "Could I check out?"

The man gave him a dirty look and looked like he really wanted to say "no," but proceeded to take the books from the stack, one by one, as he tallied up the price on a small strip of parchment next to him. "Is this a joke?" He said in a thick voice as he reached the second-to-last book.

"No…" Lucius trailed off, unaccustomed to anyone questioning his purchases.

"This is a beginner-level textbook on muggle studies," the man stated, as though Lucius was incapable of reading the blurb on the back of the book.

"Well, as you can see from the rest of the books I am purchasing, I like to educate myself. And that is a subject I know very little about."

The man behind the counter gave him another strange look before writing the price for that book as well, clearing his throat before he asked for the final amount. Lucius paid it quickly and left the store, the books teetering dangerously as he walked. He would have to ask Hermione about that illegal Extension Charm.

* * *

Lucius could vaguely remember enjoying the annual Parkinson New Year's Eve party when he was younger, excited to see what ostentatious fireworks display the family would have that year. But after Voldemort returned, the Dark Lord co-opted the celebration for his birthday; the party remained the same for everyone that wasn't in the Dark Lord's inner circle, but for others—including him—the party often involved unpredictable behavior and torture. Still, for the younger crowd of pureblood witches and wizards, including Draco and Astoria, the annual Parkinson New Year's Eve party was a must-attend event. And that's why, for his son's sake, Lucius found himself out on one of the Parkinsons' many balconies, waiting for the fireworks to go off so that he could leave.

"Hi, Lucius," a familiar voice from behind him said. He already knew who it was before he turned around, recognizing her voice immediately.

"Hello, Hermione," he greeted her as he turned around. "You know, for someone who dislikes pureblood culture as much as you say you do, I am surprised to see you for the second time among us."

Hermione shrugged. "For some reason, Harry never throws parties with this sort of dress code and I had this sitting in my closet," she said, gesturing toward her black and gold sequined dress. Seeing her again, particularly in such a tight garment, told him that his attraction to her was indeed here to stay.

"Of course, that makes perfect sense," Lucius went along.

"They didn't have any whiskey," a loud voice professed as the owner nearly tripped over the entrance to the balcony, "but I got a vodka soda and a gin and tonic, so I'll just take whichever you don't want. Ah, Mr. Malfoy! I didn't see you there," Theo Nott continued. "I'm afraid I didn't get you a drink," he joked.

Unlike the other children of his old friends, Lucius didn't see much of Theo Nott. After the Notts died in the Second War, Theo had faded into the background of pureblood society, rarely coming to gatherings and probably only receiving invitations at this point because of his parents. Begrudgingly, Lucius could see how that made Theo an attractive choice for Hermione.

"I'm being rude!" Theo exclaimed, his face a bit flushed from having a few drinks. "This is my girlfriend, Hermione Granger. Hermione, this is Lucius Malfoy."

"We've met, thanks, Theo," Hermione said drily.

"Of course," Theo said awkwardly, looking between them as though trying to ascertain whether or not he needed to usher Hermione out of the room immediately.

"How long have you two been together?" Lucius asked politely, forcing a plastered-on smile.

Hermione looked at Theo. "How long has it been? A few months?"

"It's been four, four months," he confirmed.

Lucius took in this information with a sinking feeling; they had been together when he ran into Hermione at Hogsmeade. _And why shouldn't they have been?_, he asked himself. _That afternoon was nothing but an unpleasant encounter with an ex-Death Eater for Hermione._

Theo was still looking a little uncertain about Hermione's comfort until she whispered something in his ear, making him perk up. "It's really nice to see you, Mr. Malfoy," Theo said sincerely, "It's been a long time."

Lucius exchanged a similar sentiment, trying to focus on the conversation at hand rather than on the fact that Hermione had said something to Theo that made Theo feel that Hermione was fine being in the same room as him; was she being nice to her apparent boyfriend or did she really feel comfortable around him?

* * *

He was still thinking about Hermione when he descended the stairs after the fireworks, getting lost in the crowd at first, but quickly spotting his son among the other witches and wizards. Lucius walked over to him, noticing immediately that Draco was upset about something and that he had had a few too many drinks.

Lucius was debating whether or not he should ask his son what was wrong, but Draco made the decision for him. "Did you see Theo?" He seethed.

"I did," Lucius replied mildly; for the most part, Draco avoided the subject of muggle-borns since the war because he knew his father felt differently, but sometimes, particularly when alcohol was involved, Draco became quite vicious about the subject.

"Hermione Granger. _Hermione Granger._ Everyone is talking about it..." He looked up at Lucius, looking him straight in the eyes. In color and shape, their eyes were mirrors, but Draco's were filled with hatred. "But you didn't hear anything about it, did you? You've been off by yourself somewhere, hiding."

Lucius wasn't even tempted to tell Draco that he had in fact been with the offending parties, and instead dodged the issue. "I hadn't heard anyone discussing Ms. Granger, no."

Draco looked like he was about to say something more, but Astoria came up behind him, making apologies while she guided her husband out of the room, arm-in-arm. Lucius let out the breath he didn't know he was holding.

* * *

Not far into the new year, Lucius had an errand to run. Although the Marriage Dissolution Office had been an absolute mess last time, and he expected no better this time around, he hadn't put up a fight when Narcissa asked if he would take care of the divorce interview. (The Ministry required at least one party to the divorce to deliver paperwork indicating that one or both of them wanted to remain divorced at the year mark. It was archaic, obnoxious, and very unsurprising coming from the Ministry.)

He had a one-month period from the date of the divorce anniversary to take care of it, but he scheduled his appointment on the same day and same time that he had filed his divorce paperwork initially. There was part of him that wanted to get it over with, but Lucius had to admit to himself that there was a larger part of him that was hoping that Hermione was do the same. He had briefly deliberated whether making the same appointment time was rude in any way, but decided that if Hermione wanted to avoid him, it would be easy enough for her to schedule a time on any other day of the following month, or simply in the afternoon on the same day.

He arrived ten minutes prior to this ten o'clock appointment, taking his same seat on the side of the room farthest from the door. He had spent an embarrassing amount of time that morning deciding what book to bring; he had briefly considered his muggle studies text (he was on volume two, which he had ordered recently) as a show of solidarity, but thought it would only cause Hermione to roll her eyes at the performance. Even though he had read a textbook and a half on the subject, even he would have to admit that bringing the book with him could never be anything but intentional. The chances he would run into Hermione were rather low, but they were still much higher than almost any other day. So, he settled on another book he was in the middle of on the decline and fall of vampire numbers across Europe.

Lucius was just reading about vampires' concealment abilities when the door swung open, just over half an hour after he had arrived, and like a repeat of last year, it was Hermione.

"Hi, Lucius," she said casually, seemingly unsurprised to see him waiting there.

Lucius couldn't say the same; he hadn't expected Hermione to come, and although he didn't want to read too much into it—especially considering she was dating someone else—he thought it meant at the very least that she had meant it when she said that she enjoyed their conversations. And perhaps that she didn't despise him.

"Hello, Hermione," Lucius said, his voice coming out stiffer than he intended. "I'm surprised to see you here."

"Why? You thought I would decide I wanted to be married to Viktor, after all?" She had a crooked smile, making it obvious she knew exactly what Lucius had meant.

"He _is_ a famous Quidditch player," Lucius responded in kind.

"I detest the sport," Hermione said with a shrug.

"I'm always seeing you during business hours," Lucius commented as he realized the fact. "Why are you never at work?"

"I don't go into the office much; I can do research everywhere and I normally end up doing my best work at two in the morning."

"I can relate to that," Lucius agreed. "But the Department doesn't mind you missing work?"

"Hmm… I tried to think of a way to say this in a way that doesn't sound like bragging, but I give up. I'm really good at my job."

Lucius smiled; he didn't mind bragging. He was about to respond when the witch from last year popped out her head and called his name. Hermione and Lucius exchanged a look; even though Lucius knew Hermione was dating someone else and that she had serious reservations about him, he couldn't see anything but disappointment in Hermione's eyes. She had wanted to talk with him; she had scheduled this appointment to see _him_.

* * *

A/N: I promise two things: there will be no cheating and there will be a happy Lumione ending.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thanks all of you for your continuing support!

* * *

Astoria greeted Lucius at the door with a smile that would have looked dazzling to most, but Lucius was too practiced at faking his emotions to fall for the illusion: she was exhausted. Still, he politely did not comment and went along with it by showing his set of teeth and hugging her perfunctorily before she ushered him inside.

On a normal dinner night with his son and his son's wife, Lucius would have made his way to the dining room to see Draco donning the same faux politeness, but Draco was in a sulk that made Lucius instinctually want to scold him like he would have when Draco acted this way as a child. Instead, he nodded at Draco and acted like he didn't notice his mood. "Draco, it's good to see you."

"Hello, Father." Astoria picked up the conversation and began telling Lucius about the new carpets that were coming in next week, describing them in a level of detail that Lucius knew even Astoria could not care about, despite being the one who selected them. Lucius listened attentively, asking questions and complimenting Astoria on the food he knew she didn't cook. Draco also added something occasionally, generally when Lucius could see Astoria giving him a murderous look.

Eventually, they had run out of topics regarding the household to talk about; Lucius used to try to discuss academic subjects, but had stopped a few years ago when Draco had forgotten most of what he learned in school, and despite his natural intelligence, had clearly given up further study due to lack of interest. He was a manager in the Department of Magical Games and Sports and could talk about Quidditch for hours. Lucius kept up with the sport, but never could contribute too much. Besides, Draco wasn't animated enough that evening to hold the enthusiasm required to keep that conversation alive. Astoria began to discuss mutual acquaintances, but abruptly stopped, and it quickly became clear why.

"You know, Father, Astoria and I were at the Mulciber Mansion last night. Several months ago, there was a strange rumor going around; did you hear about it?" Draco looked directly at Lucius, his voice deadly calm for the first time that night, which Lucius knew from experience was worse than the whining voice he had used for the remainder of the evening.

"You would have to provide more detail for me to comment, Draco," Lucius responded simply, concentrating on chewing his asparagus in an effort to rein in his temper, but it was difficult.

"The rumor was that you were seen leaving the Leaky Cauldron with Hermione Granger in the direction of muggle London." Draco's facial expression changed as he uttered the last two words to that of a person who had just found out they swallowed poison. "I dismissed this immediately, of course, and managed to mostly squash it. But then I hear that you spent New Year's Eve with Hermione Granger and the blood traitor, _Theo_."

Lucius's hold on his temper was completely gone; he was used to a lot of moods from Draco, but he had never heard this _condescension. _And if there was anything that could set Lucius off, it was being condescended to, especially by his son.

"How I spend my time is no concern of yours, Draco," Lucius responded in a cold, harsh voice, but he was unable to stop himself there. "And just because I have better taste in companions than you do—"

"You're just like Theo, preferring a _mudblood _to your own people," Draco interrupted in a quiet, dangerous voice.

_ If only you knew how much that were true_, Lucius thought, _you would hate me even more. _And it was one of those horrible thoughts that couldn't be taken back, even inside his own head. Did Draco really hate him? He had spent so many years filled with guilt about the way he had raised Draco; every time his son aimed an insult about muggle-born peers or those that associate with them, Lucius had never really been angry. Mostly, he had felt shame that he implanted those ideas into Draco's head, and had long since given up on trying to right his son's course. Astoria, for her part, seemed entirely neutral on the topic, and spent her energy maintaining peace. But ever since Lucius had started to befriend Hermione, there was a quiet kernel of rage building in his stomach every time Draco berated her (and this was now the third time.)

Astoria looked panicked, and she gave Lucius a look that he knew all too well. It meant, _won't you be the bigger person and smooth this over, please?_

"It's been over a decade since Voldemort has been defeated," Lucius said, his hand shaking as he tried to keep a lid on his fury, but he could hear it in every word, and he was sure that Draco and Astoria could as well. They both flinched when Lucius used the Dark Lord's name, but Lucius continued. "I have been so patient with you, Draco, seeing my younger self in you, but I would have relented so long ago if my father had ceased his prejudice, if there was no Dark Lord, if the world had moved on beyond me. Why won't you do the same?"

"_Get out of my house_," Draco seethed.

Lucius opened his mouth to argue, but no sentence he could come up with was something he could take back, so he left instead, noticing on his way that Astoria was softly crying.

* * *

Lucius was sitting at his dining room table the next morning when an unfamiliar owl swept in and dropped off what was clearly an invitation to some event or other. The invitation itself was not unusual: he received them often, and only went through them every few days when he had the mental energy. The fact that it was an unfamiliar owl was strange, however, as was the fact that this invitation came with a note attached to it.

Lucius looked at the invitation first and felt his face fall, even though he had continued to will himself to be happy for Theo and Hermione. It was an invitation to a housewarming: apparently the two of them were moving in together, which was untraditional in the extreme, and in stark contrast to the relatively standard design of the invitation. Lucius supposed that Theo didn't mind what was traditional anymore; to most of the pureblood community, living together before marriage was trivial in comparison to his choice of companion.

Lucius unfolded the note next, noting the tidy, sparse cursive.

_Lucius,_

_ I hope I am reading you correctly and that you can keep this discreet. I know that you don't see Theo very often anymore, and he has lost touch with a lot of his childhood friends and their families that don't see eye to eye with him after the war. He was really pleased to see you and talk with you the last time we met, and I know it would mean a lot to him for someone from his childhood to attend._

_ I do feel the need to tell you Harry will be attending; I have already told him you may come, as well, and if you decide to come, you will find Harry has a much more forgiving heart than I do._

_ I hope all is well with you._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Hermione_

Lucius couldn't remember the last time he had attended an event without it being out of some sort of obligation to Draco. He certainly didn't owe Theo Nott anything, and no one in pureblood society would bat an eye if he stayed home, particularly since it seemed none of them were invited. Still, part of him wanted to go. The other part of him remembered a night that didn't seem so long ago, when he had been called to the side of a man he had thought dead to see a boy Draco's age bloody, tied up, and almost certain to die. Even if that boy was as forgiving as Hermione said, could Lucius bear to face him?

And then there was the other matter that he wasn't sure how much of this invitation was purely for Theo, as the letter suggested, or if Hermione considered Lucius a friend as well. And the second-to-last sentence—was Hermione merely reminding Lucius of her few scathing remarks, or was she still upset enough with him that his presence wouldn't be welcome? _No_, Lucius told himself firmly. _Hermione and I have a checkered past, but I am not imagining anything. She made an effort to see me, even if she won't admit it._

Lucius read the middle paragraph of the letter with that in mind, trying to move aside the cloud of self-loathing that had followed him for so many years, even if he could only do so for a moment. Hermione could be harsh, but in this letter, today, she was trying to reassure him; she just couldn't bring herself to be anything but blunt.

He took the letter with him to his desk after he finished his breakfast, placing it to the left of him while he pulled out parchment and a quill to write a response. After a few minutes of dipping his quill into the ink and watching the ink drip back into the inkpot in an attempt to avoid writing the letter, Lucius couldn't keep avoiding his own thoughts. And those thoughts were obsessing over the fact that Hermione and Theo were moving in together.

He kept thinking about when he saw Hermione at the New Year's Eve party, not about the way that she looked in her dress, but the flicker in her eyes when she saw him compared to the way she looked at Theo. Lucius recognized the look in Hermione's eyes when she looked at Theo because it was the exact same facial expression he had seen for years—in pictures on the front page of the _Daily Prophet _of Hermione and Krum.

It was some combination of this observation and his fight with Draco that gave Lucius the courage to pen a messy, quick reply, although Lucius kept repeating to himself that he was simply tired of expending so much mental energy on one person, and that meeting with her in an intentional way would sort this out.

_Hermione,_

_I'd like to see you before your housewarming. Could we have coffee tomorrow morning? _

_-Lucius_

He gave the letter to his owl, holding onto it even as he gave it away, causing his owl to cast him an annoyed look.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Hope you are all safe during this crazy time!

* * *

Lucius kept his hands firmly in his pocket—a trick he had learned early in life to prevent himself from fidgeting. Hermione had taken most of the day to respond to his note, but she had agreed to meet, although instead of suggesting a café or venturing into muggle London, she had asked him to meet her at the Ministry fountain. He avoided looking at the ornate, now innocuous fountain, unable to see it without remembering its vicious appearance during Voldemort's brief reign.

He still had his hands in his pocket, eyes firmly fixed on the elevators across the hall, when he saw Hermione step out of one. She waved at him when she saw him, smiling a bit awkwardly as she approached. "Thanks for meeting me at the Ministry," she said as their paths met somewhere between the elevator and the fountain.

Lucius began to follow her back to the lifts as he smiled and replied, "Thanks for meeting me."

They didn't say much as they took the elevator down to the Department of Mysteries. There were several other witches and wizards in the large elevator for the first few floors, and they kept shooting Lucius and Hermione nasty looks until Lucius made eye contact with each of them; after that, they didn't seem to be able to get out of the elevator fast enough, which suited Lucius just fine.

When they did arrive in the round, drafty opening room of the Department, Hermione instructed Lucius to turn around and close his eyes. He felt a bit silly, but he did so regardless.

"Okay, it's safe to turn around now," Hermione announced.

Lucius took his hands off his face and slowly turned, smiling slightly as he took in the relatively mundane hallway that had replaced the spacious cavern. He followed behind Hermione until she turned the handle under the shiny gold plaque that read _Hermione Granger, Unspeakable_ and swung the door open, holding it as Lucius shuffled inside. The room was painted a light yellow and all the furniture was a warm walnut color. Despite being underground, the room felt bright and cozy.

There were three bookshelves of varying sizes and shapes stuffed into the small space and a matching walnut chair with knotted wood and a burgundy cushion sitting behind an old-fashioned desk that was dwarfed by messy stacks of paper. Lucius sat on the other side of it in a cushy goldenrod-colored armchair, feeling very out of place in his deep purple robes.

"This is a lovely office," Lucius commented.

"Thanks," Hermione responded with a tentative smile.

"I know you are barred from divulging anything of substance, but what is it like working here? Do you like it?"

"I love it," Hermione responded, nodding. "I have a lot of freedom to follow where my research takes me, which is just how I like it."

Lucius debated leaving the subject at that, but decided to say what was on his mind instead. "I always wanted to work here."

"So why don't you?" Hermione asked. "We don't exactly run out of office space," she teased.

"I applied during my last year of Hogwarts, and the Department accepted me as an apprentice. I was thrilled, but when I told my father about it, he laughed," Lucius explained, trying to keep as much emotion out of his voice as he could. "I was supposed to run the family business: The Manor, managing money, imports and exports. Nothing important."

"But you agreed?" Hermione asked.

"I agreed. I've never been very good at making the hard choices; that's something I admire about you, Hermione."

She blushed, looking down and biting her lip as she did so. Lucius had an urge to reach for her hand, but she turned her face away from him as she considered something. "Lucius, I have to tell you something."

Lucius tensed, surprised by the seriousness in her voice.

"I ran into… your son."

Lucius waited for Hermione to continue, but she didn't. "What happened?" His thoughts went back to his most recent conversation with Draco and his stomach dropped as he began to imagine everything that may have happened.

She bit her lip nervously before taking a deep breath, still staring at the wall immediately to the right of him instead of at him. Despite not being face-to-face, he could see Hermione's eyes start to water. "He told me to stay away from you."

Lucius felt his face grow hot with rage as Hermione continued. "And normally I would never listen to that sort of thing"—she turned to face him and he could see that she was struggling to maintain her composure—"but I couldn't be responsible for causing a rift between you and your son. And the only reason I'm telling you now is because, what with seeing you at the Parkinson party and today, I thought _Draco_ might say something." It seemed to cost her a large amount of energy to say Draco's first name. "Or even worse, that he might not say anything and you wouldn't know why he was upset. That's why I suggested meeting at the office, so that you could say it was business, you know, if you wanted." The last few sentences came out rambling, but Lucius caught them all the same.

Lucius flexed and bent his hand under the desk, trying to push his energy into spreading out his fingers and collapsing them again. "You've explained why you are confiding in me now, but not for your initial silence on the subject," Lucius said in a quiet, calm voice as he lifted his eyes to make eye contact with Hermione, but her eyes were fixed on his hand, which he hadn't realized had hardened into a fist while he was speaking. He looked at his hand, and then back at Hermione who had brought her face back up to meet his.

She swallowed hard before responding and there was an expression on her face that took Lucius a moment to recognize because it had been so long since he'd seen it. But he finally placed it as he realized with a sinking heart that he had last seen her look that way at him when she was just a child and he was pointing his wand at her in this very Department. She was _scared_.

"Salazar's sake, Hermione," he said with a slight hiss, "I am not angry with _you_. I—" he hesitated as his thoughts ran through all the things he could say. _I like you an inordinate amount. I think about you too often. I _want_ you. _Instead, he settled on. "I want you to trust me; I want us to be friends."

Hermione's mouth formed a small "o."

"I don't understand why you're being so nice to me when you used to _hate _me." There was no anger in her tone, but it riled Lucius up just the same.

"I keep apologizing to you, Hermione—" Lucius retorted, his voice indignant despite himself.

"You have, yes; you've said sorry until your face is blue. I see that; you don't think I see that?" Her voice was high-pitched and her words ran together slightly. "But you've never said why you're apologizing or why you've changed your mind."

Lucius considered that for a moment as he took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. "I'm apologizing because I feel guilty. As for changing my mind…" He looked into Hermione's eyes and sighed. "How long do you have?" He asked in only a slightly sarcastic tone.

Hermione reached down under her desk and pulled out a strange, black contraption. "I'll make the coffee," she said in lieu of response as she started to pour brown dust into the thing. She pulled two mugs out from under her desk—one red and one blue—and he decided not to comment on the device.

"My reasons are flimsy," Lucius said quietly enough that Hermione could barely hear him over the sound of the black object supposedly making coffee.

Hermione scrunched up her face. "I don't know how to say this nicely, so I'll just say it. I don't expect you to tell a story that would absolve you of your actions during the war, because I don't think such a story exists. I want to know the real reasons that are driving you so that I can trust that you're being honest, not so that I can accept your reasons as legitimate."

"I'm happy to hear your expectations align with reality," Lucius said, feeling simultaneously comforted and saddened that Hermione didn't expect very much from him. He wished he did have such a tale, but he didn't. "I said a few minutes ago that I have failed in life at making the hard choices, and that's true. It's just as true about my rejection of the opportunity to work here as it is about my joining the Dark Lord when the time came. And I know it sounds callous to equate the two, but I have been very callous in my life, Hermione. I grew up with the familiar refrain that my family and others like ours were superior to others because of the blood that ran in our veins. It was what I was told, and it took me an embarrassingly long time to question it. In some ways, I cared even less to challenge my beliefs regarding blood status than I did about my parents' decisions on career choice because the former was advantageous for me while the latter was not."

He paused to see if Hermione wanted to respond, but she simply nodded, her face slightly pale. She poured both cups of coffee, which looked better than Lucius expected. She handed Lucius the red mug without asking if he wanted cream or sugar before taking a too-large sip out of her hot cup of black coffee.

Finally, she spoke. "You went to school with Lily Potter, didn't you?"

"Yes," Lucius agreed, "I did."

"I've heard she was an exceptional student, especially at Potions. Did that make you question your beliefs at all?"

Lucius grimaced. "No, it didn't. I could say it was because she wasn't in my year, but I don't think it would have mattered if she was. I think I learned to rely on that fiction—that I was better than others inherently due to my blood. It wasn't until the first time I was thrown in Azkaban that I began to seriously reconsider my beliefs, and by then it was too late to extricate myself from _Voldemort_." Although he had forced himself to say the name for years, there was something particularly hard about it while he was partially reliving some of the darkest times of his life.

"Why did you start to reconsider things then?" Hermione asked softly.

Lucius swallowed, only taking a moment to pause and think about whether he should divulge these thoughts with Hermione; when he looked into her eyes and saw that she was truly listening to him, the words came out before he consciously made the decision. "While I was in Azkaban and especially afterward, it became impossible to pretend anymore that I was superior to others. I was forced to recognize the truth based on the evidence in front of me, and there is so much evidence that it seems pointless to list it—you listed one example of thousands: Lily Potter's exceptional potions skills. The two most relevant to me in that time, of course, was Voldemort's abilities as a half-blood, and yours as a muggle-born witch. I have made no attempt to make amends, as I always felt it would be futile, but over the years, that realization has cemented itself and, slowly, my former beliefs of pureblood superiority have dissipated."

The small office was silent for a moment while they both sat and processed that information.

Hermione took a sip of her coffee wordlessly, her eyes cast downward. She looked up after a moment, and shocking Lucius, she reached her hand out and placed it over his fingers that were wrapped around his red mug, placing only the slightest pressure as she looked seriously into his eyes. "I believe you, and I also believe that the worst has passed for both of us."

"Now, you came to see me about something?" Hermione asked in a lighter tone as she broke the momentary connection. It was so brief that Lucius barely had time to register it.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: What better way to distract ourselves than with fanfiction?  
Seriously, though, hope you all are doing okay. :)

* * *

"Now, you came to see me about something?" Hermione asked.

Lucius took a deep breath as he pondered what to say next. Even though he had requested the meeting and had known the meeting was set, he had no plan. "Today, you told me that Draco asked you not to see me, and that you were worried Draco would feel betrayed or something of that nature because of our interactions at the Parkinson party and today."

Hermione nodded, her expression somewhat guarded.

"What I am wondering, Hermione, is when precisely Draco spoke with you." _And if this was before or after you started seeing Theo Nott_, Lucius added to himself.

"Oh," Hermione said before she paused. "It was the day after we ran into each other and had coffee."

_So it was when she had just started seeing him, _Lucius thought, a bit deflated.

Hermione bit her lip. "Now that we're talking about this, I should take this opportunity to tell you that I found some evidence to refute your hypothesis about the effects of timing on picking potions ingredients; I think you failed to consider that you can counter the effect with—"

"Hermione," Lucius interrupted, "what does my hypothesis on reduced potions potency have to do with the directive from Draco?"

"I was going to call you out on the holes in your theory," Hermione's voice was light and teasing while Lucius was struggling not to scare her with his anger for the second time that day. "But then I had the talk with Draco and, well, I already told you I didn't want to come between you two."

"Repeating that sentiment will not make it any better," Lucius responded coldly.

"What do you mean?"

"It was not your decision or Draco's decision; who I want to associate with is my decision alone."

Hermione's voice was nearly as icy as his as she responded. "How I act will always be my decision, and I've already said that I _won't_ come between you and Draco. Perhaps you didn't hear me the first time."

"I heard you," Lucius snapped back. "But that doesn't give you the right—"

He stopped speaking because Hermione had leapt out her of chair to grab a framed, oddly still photograph from a drawer.

She placed the photograph in front of him, and Lucius leaned back as far as he could in his chair with his arms crossed, as though they would protect him his own feelings.

The two people in the photograph were so obviously her parents that he didn't even ask to confirm it, or just to fill the air with noise. Instead, he wracked his brain, going over conversations from years ago that he generally tried to keep buried—_had they killed Hermione's parents?_

Hermione was watching him, and it seemed to Lucius that she let him squirm for a minute before saying, as though reading his mind, "They weren't killed by Death Eaters; they were killed in a car accident, a completely normal way to die in the muggle world. But they were killed by that car accident on another continent with no memory of me because I took it from them. I did it to protect them, and even though it didn't really help them, I've forgiven myself. I did everything I could with the information I had at the time."

Lucius was silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on the two people in the photograph.

"Now, hopefully you understand why I can't be the cause of you being separated from your son," Hermione said, struggling to keep her voice level.

"Hermione… Draco and I aren't you and your parents. In fact, I don't even know if we are even speaking to one another right now. Our last encounter was extremely unpleasant."

"But you'll fix it," Hermione replied; it came out more as a command than an encouragement.

"I'm not so sure about that, Hermione. We haven't had common ground for a very long time, and now that we've stopped dancing around that, I'm not sure how to get it back."

"I know that you two will work through it; Draco would never have nearly snapped my head off about speaking with you if he didn't want to have some sort of relationship with you."

Lucius shook his head. "It's not about that; it's about the family reputation for him."

"I think you're wrong, but it's up to you to decide what to do, of course," Hermione said, her voice more stubborn than her words.

"I'm glad we can at least agree on that, but I will tell you that I don't find it half as endearing as you do that Draco asked you not to see me."

Now it was Hermione's turn to cross her arms. "You think I find it _endearing_? I can't even repeat half the things he said to me."

"Then why are you insisting that I make up with him, to go so far as to sneak around to get coffee with me today, to not write to me before? I'm surprised after having this conversation that you had even invited me to your housewarming."

"Theo wanted to invite you and I didn't want to get into all this with him," Hermione said in an irritated tone.

Although Lucius's heart leapt a bit at the notion that Hermione was sharing more with him than with Theo, Hermione's words _hurt_.

Lucius thought of himself yesterday, sitting in his study, trying to convince himself that Hermione wanted to see him. It must have shown in his face because Hermione continued, "and I wanted to see you, too, but I can't"—she gestured to the photo again—"I can't."

"Hermione!" Lucius was becoming frustrated. "I am glad you wanted to see me; I want to be friends. Draco and I have reached an impasse; I don't think we're ever going to have the relationship you have with your parents."

"Have you tried talking with him?"

"It's hard to talk with him when he's _shouting _at me," Lucius responded through gritted teeth.

"What are you two fighting about?"

_You._

"Our views on the war," was the most diplomatic way Lucius could put it.

"On muggleborns, you mean," Hermione corrected.

"Yes," Lucius hissed.

Hermione nodded. "So why does he feel differently than you? You've told me why your views are the way they are; what's his story?"

"He doesn't—we haven't—as I said, we haven't gotten to that depth."

"Then you should," Hermione said stiffly. "And until you do, I don't want to see you and cause more discord."

"Well, Hermione, it seems this conversation has reached a natural end," Lucius snapped, doing his best not to explode.

"I quite agree," Hermione fumed, rising and reaching out her shaking hand for a handshake.

Lucius ignored her outstretched hand, instead walking around her desk until he was so close that a deep enough breath would result in the two of them touching.

Somewhere in his mix of anger and frustration, he found the boldness to whisper, "I look forward to seeing you at your _housewarming_."

"What makes you think that you're still _invited_ to that? I just told you I didn't want you there in the first place," Hermione asked indignantly.

Lucius stepped back, managing to keep his facial expression neutral by holding onto his cane so hard that it was slightly painful. "I am confident that I will be welcome there."

"You are not welcome," Hermione said through gritted teeth.

"Yes, because of Draco, right?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"Since you have also taken the time to explain to me that you don't want to inform Theo about this—of course you were fuzzy on the details—still, I think you won't say anything to him about your desire not to see me."

Hermione put her hands on her hip, eyes narrowed.

"Did I get that right?"

"I would think pureblood culture would bar you from attending a function when the host informed you that you were uninvited."

"How convenient for me, then, that I don't give a damn about pureblood culture."

She let out a ragged, frustrated breath and stared at Lucius, her eyes wider than they were a few minutes ago, but her hands still firmly on her hips. "Why does this matter so much to you?"

Lucius kept his death-grip on his cane, but extended his other hand to pull her chin up slightly so that she could have nowhere else to look but directly at him. He could see her swallow nervously out of the periphery of his vision, but he kept his eyes firmly trained on her brown ones. "You know why."

Hermione shivered slightly; they had moved so close to one another that Lucius could now smell the mix of coffee and peppermint on Hermione's breath. "I'm with Theo," she said, and he could feel the vibrations reverberate in his fingers as she spoke.

"That's not really an answer," Lucius responded in a soft voice, almost feeling that speaking too loudly would break the spell of that moment.

"You didn't answer me, either," Hermione pointed out. "I apologize if I was too forceful about you and Draco, but I do think you should try talking with him again."

"I know it's coming from a good place. It's just that I tend to bristle when someone attempts to instruct me to do anything." Hermione nodded, and when Lucius's hand slipped from her chin, he instinctually pushed Hermione's hair behind her ear, not wanting to break the thread of contact. After he did so, though, he dropped his hand; it felt strange, hanging there by his side limply.

Part of him wanted to tell Hermione that he knew she felt what he did, that she shouldn't with Theo, that she shouldn't make the same mistake twice. But he couldn't because she made her response clear: _make up with your son_.

The trouble was that Lucius wasn't sure that was entirely possible.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Thanks all for continuing to read and review! I'm glad you all enjoyed the almost-kiss last chapter. ;)  
(Real kisses are imminent.)

* * *

Lucius begrudgingly grabbed his coat on his way out the door; Narcissa had written to him and demanded to meet with him urgently. It was a strange enough request that Lucius didn't question it. Narcissa had moved out of the country before the divorce was official and was now nearly married to a foreign wizard in Denmark. As surprising at the request to meet was, her choice of restaurant was expected: she had naturally selected a pureblood bar that he had no interest in and that he now knew would be filled with people wondering why he fraternized with Hermione Granger.

As he walked in, his eyes scanned the room and found only one person at the bar. That person looked a lot like his ex-wife; he had her same oval face shape, the slightly upturned nose, and the ability to ice anyone with a stare. But it was decidedly Draco. And father and son realized what happened at the exact same time as the former sighed and the latter rolled his eyes up at the ceiling.

Lucius approached and threw his coat over the barstool to his right as he sat with Draco to his left. "Your mother asked to meet you here as well, I presume?"

"Spot on," Draco responded, sounding more tired than anything else. It had been nearly a week since their argument, and he hadn't heard from Draco since; to be fair, Lucius hadn't reached out, either, as he didn't know what to say.

Lucius's mind ran through what to say that could be reconciliatory, but instead he nervously tapped the bar and said, "you acted like a child last time we met, Draco. You're not sixteen anymore."

Draco shot him an incredulous look. "I know I'm not sixteen because if I were, you would be in Azkaban."

Lucius deflated a bit at that. He was saved from responding by the bartender coming by and asking them what they wanted to order. Lucius ordered cognac and Draco firewhisky.

"Look, I know I was an abysmal father when you were growing up," Lucius confessed when the bartender was out of earshot. "I am embarrassed to say that it was the best I could do at the time. When I went to Azkaban for my actions at the Ministry… I had gone that day in an effort to continue doing the Dark Lord's bidding. To protect you and Narcissa. I know you don't understand that—"

"I do," Draco interrupted. "But you didn't go to Azkaban for attempting to retrieve the prophecy."

Lucius shot him a confused look and pondered that statement while the bartender set their drinks down. Lucius took a large sip while his son took a shot, both seemingly trying to build up courage for a conversation that was already more honest than they had had in years.

Draco continued: "You went because you botched it; if everything had gone to plan, you would have been out of there. You would have been home."

Lucius had never thought about what would have happened if he had been _more _ruthless, _more _committed to the Dark Lord. When he went over that day, he regretted putting himself and his family in that situation in the first place, but Draco was right. There was another way out that he hadn't even considered. "There's truth in that, Draco, but I couldn't do it; I couldn't seriously harm those children. They were your age. When I looked at them, that's all that came to mind." He had lowered his voice now, in part out of respect for the privacy of the conversation, but also so that Draco couldn't hear how scratchy his voice had become as he relived that moment.

They were both silent for what felt like ages, but in reality was probably less than a minute. Draco broke the silence. "I get that, okay? But it sometimes feels like you and mother's ambivalence made things worse instead of better; even when our side was winning the war, we were being tortured and degraded. And afterward?" Draco shrugged. "No one will ever forget what side we fought on, even if we didn't fight hard enough for the Dark Lord. And I've spent years trying to find a place—a home—again. I don't want to leave the country like Mother did, and I don't want to hide like you do."

"Draco, I'm deeply sorry for all the pain I have caused you over the years; I know it hasn't been easy being my son. And you're right, I was ambivalent; sometimes I think Voldemort was especially skilled at making people feel as if they had no options, but there are always other options that I was too scared and too proud to take."

Draco looked thoughtful for a moment. "What I don't understand, Father, is that I always thought you and Mother changed your minds because of how the Dark Lord treated our family, which I have come to understand, but lately you've been seeing Granger and even defending her." His voice was calm, but his face and knuckles had done very white, the latter because of the strong grip he had on his empty firewhisky glass.

Lucius knitted his brows together. "Draco, I don't think I've said anything negative to you about muggle-borns in _years_. Admittedly, I have tried to avoid conflict with you, perhaps to a fault, but I haven't had animosity for a long time, mostly just shame about my actions during the war and before."

Draco had begun shaking his head toward the end of Lucius's words, and Lucius could tell that his son was fighting a losing battle with his temper. "I have nothing to be ashamed for. Nothing. We can't concern ourselves with how we treat the _rabble_." His voice rose in pitch and volume with the last word.

This would normally be the point in the conversation where Lucius would let Draco rant or allow Astoria to change the subject, but Draco was waiting for a response now, and for the first time in a long time, Lucius was alone with his son. "Draco, when I was your age, I felt very similarly, but I think if you try to think about why you think of muggle-borns as beneath us, you might find what I did: it is out of pride and convenience rather than logic."

"I don't need any other reason than the simple fact that their veins are polluted with the blood of those without magic," Draco said through gritted teeth, although his shoulders had relaxed somewhat.

"And why does who their parents are make them worse?" Lucius asked tentatively.

"Because it's not just who their parents are; it's who they are," Draco responded, his tone conveying his deep-seated belief in the immutable fact that purebloods were better than muggle-borns. A belief Lucius had instilled in him early.

"But do muggle-borns yield less magic than us?"

"Why are you doing this?" Draco asked instead of answering. "This"—Draco gestured to the room surrounding them—"is all we have. Granger and all the Potters of the world—they'll never accept you, Father. You know that; that's why you come to places like this, parties like the Parkinsons', and why you still live in the same house."

"Maybe you're right, Draco," Lucius said after a moment, though Draco's words had shaken him more than he let show. "I am scared, but I am tired of living in between worlds, tip-toeing around conversations like this and choosing my words with exhausting precision. It's why I hide at home, as you say. And If I'm always hiding anyway…" He shrugged. "Having a chance to stop would be nice."

Draco didn't say anything, staring determinedly into his empty glass to avoid eye contact.

Lucius broke the silence. "Would that… I mean if I did continue to see Hermione—you know, as a friend—how would that affect you?"

Draco's head spun up quickly so that their eyes met again; there was anger and indignation in his expression, but he also seemed shocked at the question, which brought a swell of guilt into the pit of Lucius's stomach. When had he last asked Draco how his actions would affect him? Had he ever?

"I think it's fucking disgusting," Draco said, but his tone didn't match the anger of his words. "But, you'll still always be welcome at our house, if that's the sort of thing you mean."

Deciding that it was a remarkable step from the last time they had discussed Hermione, Lucius responded by awkwardly patting his son on the shoulder before Draco just as awkwardly changed the subject to the safe haven of Quidditch.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Thanks all for the continuing support. :)

* * *

The housewarming had seemed far away when Lucius had first received the invitation, but before he knew it, the snow had begun to thaw as the date fast approached. There was still some on the ground by the time he was walking down Hermione's street, but it was slushy and a bit dirty.

He hadn't exactly known how to dress for the event, but felt comforted when he walked into Hermione's flat that the rest of her guests clearly hadn't known, either. While he and Theo were in dress robes, most of the other men in attendance were in muggle clothing. Normally, he would have no way of ascertaining the level of formality of that type of clothing, but he did notice that some guest's trousers looked a bit like what Hermione had put him in for their trip to muggle London, whereas some were a different animal entirely.

It was a small group, but he still only recognized a fraction of the guests. There was Hermione and Theo, of course, and then Harry and his wife, both of whom he had to mentally prepare himself to face that day. Even though Hermione had only warned him about Harry, he soon remembered that he had an almost more awkward history with the young Lovegood girl, who had been incarcerated in his home during the war. Harry gave him a stiff nod and a curious glance as Lucius's eyes raked over him as he scanned the room, while his wife's eyes popped open wider with an undercurrent of fear. Lucius lifted his chin slightly in greeting, but quickly moved his eyes away from the pair so that they wouldn't feel obligated to talk to him.

The last two people that he recognized were both people he had a vague acquaintance with but were not close enough that he knew either of their names. The first was the bookstore owner that had never responded to his letter, while the other was the son of some pureblood family whose age didn't match up closely enough with Draco's for Lucius to know him well.

While he was still mentally searching for the name, a stranger walked up to him and stiffly greeted him.

Lucius shot him a confused look. "Do we know each other?"

He blanched. "You don't recognize me? You're not serious…"

Lucius frantically searched his mental catalogue; he still didn't recognize the person in front of him, but there was something in his voice that was familiar. He sighed. "You… you were with Hermione at the Department of Mysteries that day, right?"

Maybe Hermione was right. Maybe he really shouldn't have come to this.

The person across from him was nodding, still looking incredibly put out that Lucius hadn't recognized him. "I'm sorry I didn't recognize you; honestly, that day is crystal clear for me."

Eyebrows raised in response.

"You just look quite different; I apologize," Lucius said, already exhausted as he realized how many people he would need to say those words to that day; even the ones he hadn't recognized he had probably harmed in some way or another.

His face relaxed. "I'm sorry, too." He scratched the back of his neck nervously. "I get that a lot; that I look different from when I was a kid. Different haircut and all that. I guess I jumped to thinking the worst about you…"

There was an awkward pause, during which Lucius forced his face to relax somewhat. "I can understand that. I may have been rude as well. I'm quite tense, to be perfectly honest with you."

The man across from him shot him a sloppy side smile. "I can imagine. Let's start over, shall we? I'm Neville Longbottom."

Lucius felt a bit silly, but he nevertheless took Neville's outstretched hand and said, "Lucius Malfoy. It's a pleasure to meet you in a much more pleasant setting."

"I think we can both agree on that," Neville said congenially.

"Hi, Neville," a familiar voice said from behind Lucius. He turned around to see the bookstore owner standing behind him, regarding him unsurely, much like he did when Lucius bought Muggle Studies texts.

"Mr. Malfoy," he greeted Lucius stiffly.

"Please, it's Lucius," Lucius said, extending a hand. The bookstore owner regarded it suspiciously, but eventually took it, shaking it harshly.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley."

After several minutes of conversation with Neville and Justin about Herbology, Lucius caught Hermione out of the corner of his eye taking some empty plates back to the kitchen. He quickly downed the rest of his drink, offered apologies to Justin (who was so talkative that Lucius wasn't sure he preferred the friendly version), and followed Hermione.

Hermione was standing away from him with the dishes already in the sink and her hands resting on the edge of the counter.

"Hermione?" Lucius asked, feeling as if he were interrupting something.

"Hi, Lucius," Hermione said in a choked voice as she turned around, wiping tears from her face even though it was useless as they were quickly replaced by more.

"What's wrong?" Lucius asked immediately. Part of him wanted to cross the room and envelope her in a hug, but something kept him firmly rooted to the opposite side of the too-white kitchen.

Hermione shook her head, taking deep breaths. "I can't talk about it or I'll never stop crying, and I still have to host this," she gestured toward the hallway, looking exhausted at the idea of returning.

Lucius nodded, both of them standing quietly against counters, facing each other but not saying a word while the buzz of conversation and music quietly continued in the background.

"Is it… Theo?" Lucius asked tentatively. The question was entirely selfish; it likely wasn't abiding by Hermione's request to not discuss the matter and then there was the fact that Lucius was internally willing the answer to be _yes_, but despite his ill intentions the question left him.

"Yeah," Hermione said in a quiet, dejected voice.

"Oh," Lucius responded, unprepared for a reply in the affirmative and now feeling guilty for wanting there to be problems between Hermione and her boyfriend.

"You know," Hermione continued, "I thought it was really _sweet_ that Theo wanted to have this party and meet all my friends, because it's mostly my friends out there, right?"

Lucius nodded even though he didn't recognize enough of the crowd to know if that were true or not.

"And he's really getting to know everyone out there, isn't he?"

Another nod.

"Well, I was digging around for a serving dish, and guess what I found? A fucking letter acknowledging Theo's entry into the race for the Head of International Magical Cooperation. I dated the parchment and it's from three weeks ago. Don't you find it odd that he wouldn't tell me he was running for office when he's been planning it for at least three weeks, unless he's using me to hold a campaign party for him entirely unknowingly?" Hermione was unraveling, and her voice was oscillating between so quiet that Lucius had to strain to hear and dangerously loud.

_I didn't want anything like this to happen to Hermione_, Lucius thought dejectedly, now feeling incredibly guilty for hoping for her relationship to fail. "Maybe it's not what it looks like, Hermione," Lucius said in the most encouraging tone he could muster, which fell fairly flat.

"We both know that it is. What's embarrassing is I didn't see it coming at all. Sometimes I wonder if I really fucked this up and if anyone will love me like Viktor did." Her anger had died down and was now replaced by tears continuing to stream silently down her face.

"It will work itself out, Hermione," Lucius said. It was a lot less than he wanted to say, but he couldn't help but feel like he was intruding on Hermione's privacy, even if she was sharing with him.

"Maybe," she said in a small voice. "But for now, you know what? I'm not hosting this; I'm going to get rid of everyone." And without another word, she passed Lucius and left the kitchen.

He craned his neck around the corner and saw Hermione pull Theo to the side and whisper something in his ear. Theo turned white and looked at Hermione pleadingly at first, and then, presumably in response to the expression on Hermione's face, Theo turned even whiter before shouting to the room.

"I deeply apologize, everyone, but Hermione is feeling unwell and I'm going to have to ask everyone to leave so that Hermione can get her rest."

There was a note of fear in his voice that made Lucius's heart lift in spite of himself, and he had to try to conceal a smirk that was trying to escape as he dutifully left the apartment. It had been a much more interesting day than he had bargained for.

He was ready to chalk it up as a successful outing, but Neville and Justin stopped him.

"We're all going out to the Hog's Head for drinks since things were cut a bit short," Neville explained, gesturing to a group that included the couple Lucius had thus far avoided. "Would you like to come with us?"

"Well, I don't want to intrude," Lucius responded, glancing sidelong at Harry to see his facial expression.

Harry must have seen it because he cut in, "Malfoy, come on, then, any friend of Hermione's… gets invited to the Hog's Head," he finished, apparently feeling that calling Lucius a friend would be a step too far. Privately, Lucius agreed with Harry, and whether it was because he was in such a good mood or because he couldn't say no to the golden boy, he decided to tag along.


End file.
